Fishing boats sometimes had names like that;
'Happy Return',
'I'm Here', those sort of names.
'Je Reviens' —
'I come back.'
Yes, I suppose it was quite a good name for a boat.
Only it had not been right for that particular boat which would never come back again.
It must be cold sailing out there in the bay, beyond the beacon away on the headland.
The sea was calm in the bay, but even today, when it was so still, out there round the headland there was a ripple of white foam on the surface of the water where the tide was racing.
A small boat would heel to the wind when she rounded the headland and came out of the landlocked bay.
The sea would splash inboard perhaps, run down the deck.
The person at the tiller would wipe spray out of her eyes and hair, glance up at the straining mast.
I wondered what colour the boat had been.
Green and white perhaps, like the buoy.
Not very big, Frank had said, with a little cabin.
Jasper was sniffing at the iron ladder.
'Come away,' I said.
'I don't want to go in after you.'
I went back along the harbour wall to the beach.
The cottage did not seem so remote and sinister at the edge of the wood as it had done before.
The sun made such a difference.
No rain today, pattering on the roof.
I walked slowly up the beach towards it.
After all, it was only a cottage, with nobody living in it.
There was nothing to be frightened of.
Nothing at all.
Any place seemed damp and sinister when it had been uninhabited for a certain time.
Even new bungalows and places.
Besides, they had moonlight picnics and things here.
Week-end visitors probably used to come and bathe, and then go for a sail in the boat.
I stood looking into the neglected garden choked with nettles.
Someone ought to come and tidy it up.
One of the gardeners.
There was no need to leave it like this. I pushed the little gate and went to the door of the cottage.
It was not entirely closed.
I was certain I had closed it the last time.
Jasper began growling, sniffing under the door.
'Don't, Jasper,' I said. He went on sniffing deeply, his nose thrust to the crack. I pushed the door open and looked inside.
It was very dark.
Like it had been before.
Nothing was changed.
The cobwebs still clung to the rigging of the model boats.
The door into the boat-store at the end of the room was open though.
Jasper growled again, and there was a sound of something falling.
Jasper barked furiously, and darting between my legs into the room he tore to the open door of the store.
I followed him, heart beating, and then stood uncertainly in the middle of the room.
'Jasper, come back, don't be a fool,' I said.
He stood in the doorway, still barking furiously, an hysterical note in his voice.
Something was there then, inside the store.
Not a rat. He would have gone for a rat.